


Hungry for Wonderful

by Elva_Barr



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elva_Barr/pseuds/Elva_Barr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll be sitting in the coffee shop, and Blaine's jaw will crack as he tries to eat his biscotti, a little snick of a sound. He'll stop eating, mouth still wrapped around it, blush furiously, and look at Kurt with a dark, wanting, scared expression in his eyes, not trusting the ferocity of his own desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hungry for Wonderful

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the deeply wonderful wildejoy (LJ). Concrit always welcome. Warnings: mild d/s, unprotected sex, really graphic oral sex, blink-and-you-miss-it brittana, sex among characters who are underage but legally consenting

Tension builds unceasingly inside Blaine as Kurt moves his fingers in slow circles on his prostate, and it keeps feeling better and better until he thinks it can't feel any better at all, and he can't seem to catch his breath. "I want to try something," Kurt had said. Apparently, what he'd meant was _I want you to fall apart,_ because that's how Blaine feels, melting onto Kurt's hand and panting roughly, holding onto Kurt's shoulder and wishing Kurt would move up so they could kiss.

Kurt's not unaffected, though, mouthing at Blaine's hip and looking up at him with wonder. "I just - what you were doing earlier, with the biscotti, and you touched your jaw, I couldn't even think. Do you like that? Do you like feeling sore like that?"

Blaine whines, rocking back on Kurt's fingers and nodding frantically. "Yes, Kurt, yes and I love this too, can you give me more? Can you - can we - have sex?"

"We _are_ having sex," Kurt replies, twisting his fingers, "also I need to buy condoms before we do that, which I hope you know will be the most embarrassing moment of my life."

Blaine stops squirming for a second and protests, "But we're not, we haven't done this before, why do we need - "

He's cut off by an almost punishingly sharp thrust of Kurt's fingers, and he looks down in shock to see Kurt staring back. He gasps with mock-surprise, "Did you not read the pamphlets, Blaine?"

Blaine remembers the pamphlets Kurt had given to him with strict instructions. He didn't read them. He wriggles down onto Kurt's fingers with a groan. "I'll read the pamphlets, just please let me come," he whines.

Finally Kurt takes pity on him and wraps his other hand around his cock, stroking him inside and out until Blaine tenses, head falling back onto the pillow, and comes.

When he can finally regain his breath, Blaine rests a hand on Kurt's chest hesitantly. "I want to try something, too." Kurt looks at him curiously and Blaine heaves a great breath, sitting up against the headboard, looking down and deciding that he can do this, can trust Kurt with this.

He explains how it's not about being uncertain, and he's still definitely gay, but he _really likes_ giving head and he wants to see if maybe it translates. He wants to spend the rest of his life with a man - with Kurt, really, but he doesn't say that yet - but this slice of his life, seventeen years old and discovering everything, he wants to experiment a little and it's not about gay or straight or bi, just figuring out what he likes and what he needs. He doesn't want to do it without Kurt, and he definitely doesn't want to have intercourse with a girl, but he wants to find out how she tastes.

Kurt's still processing it, and asks absentmindedly, "Who?"

"Well, do you remember when Santana walked in on us at Artie's party?"

In a weird way, that makes it okay for Kurt. He knows that what he said to Blaine before about experimentation was wrong, and he's still trying to understand for himself why it was wrong, but maybe this is a step forward in the right direction? Maybe it's a step back, that he only thinks it's okay with Santana, who's already a lesbian and in some strange way - this is _Santana_ \- sexually non-threatening. Maybe this isn't just about Blaine getting to experiment, maybe this can be his own kind of experiment. He needs to stretch his limits. He needs to understand. He agrees.

*

"Oh my god, this is so awkward, Kurt, I can feel your _dick_." Santana's back arches away from Kurt and she moves, shifting against him until it feels like they're cuddling, which only irks her more. "And why the fuck are you wearing socks?"

"Santana. Calm down. My feet get cold. I promise that my - that this is for Blaine, not for you. Just lean back."

Grudgingly, Santana leans back and snaps at him, "Only sluts wear socks during sex, Christ."

Blaine looks up from where he's lying down in between Santana's legs, cheek pressed against her right thigh rather unassumingly, platonically. He quirks his head, curious, as if to prod her to elaborate. She does, thigh twitching under his cheek. "I think it's so they can run out of the door as soon as it's over, I don't know, it's just like a thing that I've heard."

Blaine stares at Kurt in disbelief. "He's naked and he has an erection. I think socks are the last thing on his mind. Really, if there's any item of clothing to keep on, pants would be the most practical."

"I did wear great pants today."

"God, just get on with it." Blaine looks at her with understanding in his eyes, and Kurt glares at him before he can begin a speech filled with thinly veiled condescension and bad advice. Blaine looks down, gathers his thoughts, and edits down his words to a quiet, "You don't have to do this, you know."

Santana tilts her head to the side, a little shrug, "Well, we're already naked, except for Mister Socks over there, why not?"

Kurt feels lucky that he knows them so well and he knows how to break the tension in the room, maybe make Santana a little more comfortable with the situation, maybe spur Blaine forward into - he didn't realize how hot the idea would be to him. He's got no sexual interest in Santana - he loves her in an abstract _"you're crazy, but we've been through so much together"_ kind of way, but he's really glad she didn't take her bra off yet, and that he can't see _her_ , down there, only Blaine's nervous face.

And yet... Blaine wants it, and Kurt likes this: knowing that Blaine is turned on by Kurt being here and telling him to go ahead, knowing that Blaine would never do this without Kurt here, knowing that Blaine is nervous but also knowing that Blaine is going to love this. Blaine adores giving head. He goes crazy for it, trying to sink his mouth down further and further on Kurt's dick when it's pretty obvious to everyone involved that he is just not going to be able to get it down his throat, gagging a little and somehow, inexplicably, enjoying even that. They don't get a lot of time to do it, and every time it affects Blaine for days afterwards. They'll be sitting in the coffee shop, and Blaine's jaw will crack as he tries to eat his biscotti, a little _snick_ of a sound. He'll stop eating, mouth still wrapped around it, blush furiously, and look at Kurt with a dark, wanting, scared expression in his eyes, not trusting the ferocity of his own desire. He'll suck on the biscotti a little so that the crumbs don't fall all over the table, and blush again at the action. And even though this is all still new and intimidating and unexpected, Blaine will carry a little smile on his face for the rest of the day.

Kurt snaps out of his reverie, realizes that he's staring at Blaine's mouth, and says, to Blaine but looking at Santana, "Blaine, we're doing this. You're not asking Rachel Berry."

Immediately the tension is broken with laughter, and finally Santana relaxes against Kurt, looking down at Blaine. She doesn't know what to say, really. She didn't know what to say when Kurt had asked her, she'd been surprised beyond words and she's still not completely sure that this is a good idea. She doesn't want to have sex with either of them, but is oral sex really sex? (Part of her says yes while another part reminds her how many times she's been with how many people telling them it's not, and it's okay, they're still a virgin or they aren't cheating, or whatever.) When she first met Blaine, she thought he was phony and short, like Rachel Berry with a dick. It changed when she had walked in on them grinding against each other in Artie's laundry room, Blaine on top of the dryer. It wasn't a sex thing, not then, really, but seeing the way he grasped at Kurt's shoulders, desperate and hungry, his dumb triangle-shaped eyebrows furrowed together like he was confounded by the amount that he _wanted_ , she'd thought that the boy had uncharted depths. Weirdly, they'd become friends, after that. She thinks a few things about this situation at the current moment:

\- Either she gets to prove that all guys are bad at this, or she gets an orgasm. Win-win.  
\- In some really strange way, Blaine's her friend, and Kurt's her friend, and they're the only two real friends she has that she hasn't had sex with.  
\- Ideally, this will be the last time she have sex with dudes. If it is, why not have it be a) sex that's really all about her getting head, and b) sex with gay dudes. It's like a tribute to the gay community. A Santana tribute. Perfect.

Lastly,

\- Trouty Mouth, lovely as he was, was not good at this. He didn't really get it, he wanted to make Santana happy (so she'd have sex with him, probably) but he took no pleasure in eating her out. That was when she broke up with him, crying into her pillow afterwards and not knowing why. She didn't want sex that was made up of a series of actions, the way that it always seemed to with guys. Maybe it was her fault just as much as theirs, but it always felt like what she was doing to him, and what he was doing for her, and even when they got over the oral, and straight to the fucking, it still felt like just this thing that she was giving away, a gift that she had to be participant in. She didn't want sex made up of _to_ and _for_ and _by_ , she wanted sex that happened _with_. And maybe that was possible with some guy, whatever, but nothing felt as mutual as when she and Brittany rolled around together, soaring higher and higher with nothing keeping them down but the weight of their feelings.

She wants this, though. She wants to see that force of desire that she saw that day in the laundry room, and she's not sure if it turns her on by itself, but she knows if it's directed at her, it will. "Please. Let's not pretend that Rachel Berry is anywhere near my caliber in bed. Get to it."

"I don't really know what I'm doing here, so you have to tell me what you like, okay?" Blaine breathes out the words without paying much attention to them; his focus is on the gleaming pink skin of Santana's labia. She's not really _wet_ yet, but Blaine's mouth has been watering for the past twenty minutes, so he's sure it won't be a problem.

Kurt moves his hand to brush Santana's hair back away from her ear and whisper to her, "As far as I'm concerned, he's really good at oral, so I'm sure he'll pick it up quickly. I bet he's going to love it."

Blaine does. She smells different than Kurt, but it's still terrific, this salty heady really thick scent that he's sure will haunt him in his dreams. When he first touches his tongue to her, pushing it a little so it's just touching the tip of her vagina, the source of it all, he moans a little, barely noticing that he had made any noise. It's not physically more than a dick, it's less really, but the presence of her cunt is somehow bigger, the aura, the scent filling him up instantly. He's sure that there are things about this that just don't measure up to sucking cock, but this, this is excellent.

He looks up, and because of the angle, he can see Santana's face. She looks surprised, and it takes him a second to figure out why. She's surprised he's enjoying it the way he is - that's okay, so is he - and she's pleased by it. Her legs relax a little, opening for him, and she tilts her head at him as if to say, "Well, go on, get to work."

It's really different, he can see that immediately, actually physically see. Kurt is his basis for comparison, not just because he's a guy, but because Kurt is the only other person he's done this with. The first thing he had noticed, when Santana had taken off her clothes (except for her bra, because, "aw, sweetie, I know boobies scare you") was that Kurt was a lot hairier. Kurt groomed himself, but the one time they had talked about it, Kurt said, "I am not putting razorblades _down there_ , Blaine Warbler, and that is that," and Blaine had honestly been so relieved that Kurt hadn't asked him to start waxing his chest that he didn't even reassure Kurt that his dick and everything surrounding it was already perfect. Santana looked a lot more like the porn that he'd walked in on his roommates watching, smooth and hairless except for a little triangular strip of hair above where the folds started, as if to say "this is where you go," like he was too gay to figure it out for himself.

He hadn't wanted to go into this underprepared, even though that was kind of the point of experimentation, and had called Wes's girlfriend, Amber. He hadn't asked her outright, but they often called each other to complain about their lives, and Wes, the tiny spot of intersection in them. When she groused for the second time that "maybe the other girls were right, maybe college boys _are_ better," Blaine had chuckled, and said, "Well, what would you tell him, if you could get over your second-hand embarrassment? I mean, the guys, I don't know why, but they always come to me with their 'girl problems' - " (actually they didn't, Blaine was a horrible manipulative liar but maybe he'd slip Wes a note or something) " - and I'm sure I could give at least some kind of advice, I don't know."

Amber had taken the opportunity for what it was and immediately took the conversation from its hesitant PG-13 whining to an explicit NC-17 rundown of what, exactly, she was too scared to say to Wes for fear of hurting his feelings. Blaine had been shocked by her immediate frankness, and as a result had only gotten two things out of her rant: one, don't push that hard with your tongue, it's sensitive and it hurts, two, when she says don't stop, whatever you do, "do not fucking stop."

Looking back on it, he's not sure that getting the advice was the best thing to do. What if Kurt's been lying to him the entire time to be nice and he's actually really bad at oral? What if the reason Santana's gay is because only girls can do this, like the way he privately thinks guys are probably better at sucking dick because their jaws are bigger? What if the lingering disappointment he feels from Amber carries through to his performance?

Blaine stares into the mystery of Santana's vagina and tries to calm the panic running through his system. _Get ahold of yourself, Anderson. It's a vagina, not the apocalypse._ He takes a steely breath and as he releases it, Santana makes a little _mm_ noise, shifting her ass so she's a little bit closer to him. Okay. He can do this. He is doing this.

He thinks about the first piece of advice and agrees with its message, Santana does look kind of sensitive, a lot more vulnerable than he thought she would. With this in mind, he tries to relax his mouth, puts his hands on her thighs where they meet her hips, and leans in so he can put a kiss to the center of her. He doesn't pull away, shifting forward instead so he can stay there, and licks a line from her entrance to the top of her folds, keeping his tongue soft and relaxed, not pushing at all, just moving it slowly against her, slick with his saliva. She sighs and he gains confidence, smiling and kissing her again, right where he is, at the top of her slit, making it a deeper kiss and pushing his tongue again just a little because he already misses the taste of her. At this, Santana gasps and her hand drops down to clutch at Kurt's thigh.

Blaine frowns and tries to figure out if that was her clitoris or what. He decides that he needs to reevaluate and that he can't see well enough, and moves his hands down, to the inside of her thighs, pulling her apart just a little so he can see better, keeping her warm with his unsteady breath.

He looks, and he's both fascinated and turned on. She looks different than she had at the beginning, a little bit more pink, the folds of skin immediately inside of her a little bigger, maybe, and he wonders if that's biologically possible, if that's a thing that happened with girls. He decides not to ask. "You'll ruin the ambiance," says his inner Kurt. There's a sort of swollen circle near the top of her, a pinky finger's distance away from her vagina, and he figures that must be her clit. _That was easy,_ he thinks, and mentally breathes a sigh of relief, for himself, for Santana, and for teenage boys everywhere. He shifts again to get a little more comfortable, and seals his mouth over her, and - gently, gently, he reminds himself - moves his tongue in a wide circle. His response is a long sigh, and Santana's fingers brushing against his forehead. He tries to lean against her hand, inviting more petting, without moving his mouth, and he looks silly, but she takes the hint and scratches her fingers against his hair.

He continues to move his tongue in circles, and occasionally drags it down to her vagina to reach his tongue into her and taste more of her, so salty and not bitter at all but more like - he can't describe it yet, but he knows he wants more. Gradually, Santana relaxes against him, as if she'd been initially unsure whether or not to trust him with this, but he's winning her over. When at last it feels like she's really relaxed, he decides to try to make her tense again.

He drags his tongue all the way up again, and folds it so that the back of his tongue, where it's smoother and wetter, slides against her clit, moving his tongue from side to side, not really settling into a rhythm but applying just a little bit more pressure every other pass. It's hard to keep his teeth away, and it makes his tongue more tired than it already was, but it's worth it and he likes the feeling of his tongue being tired anyway. It's worth it because he hears Santana say "Oh, oh my god what are you _doing_ \- " and then hears a slick sound that's not originating from him.

Trying to keep his mouth where it is, tongue still moving slowly, he looks up. He didn't think he could get any more aroused, but he is, and he's so thankful that he's already naked, because he doesn't think he could be this hard in jeans. Santana hasn't moved at all except to turn her head to the side, and she's kissing Kurt, really kissing Kurt, both of their eyes closed, lips moving softly but passionately against each other, and Santana's hands stay where they are, one hand still in his hair and the other at Kurt's thigh, but Kurt has one of his hands moving across Santana's upper body, appreciating the silk material of her bra strap and dragging his fingernails lightly against her bicep.

Blaine whimpers and they both turn to look at him. "Don't stop," Santana says, and if Blaine had the presence of mind, he'd laugh. Santana looks disheveled and that's certainly rewarding, but it's Kurt that surprises him in the best way. He looks down at Blaine like he wants to grab him and maybe finally fuck him, like he wants to own him in the deepest way possible. "Go on," he breathes, his voice high and reedy but dark anyhow, "you can do it."

Kurt says it because he knows it affects Blaine, he knows that as much as Blaine loves the scent and the taste, and having a dick - or, apparently, a cunt - in his mouth pleases him, there's nothing like positive feedback. Blaine lives on it, so happy if he can just know that he's doing this one little (well, in Kurt's case, not so little) thing right. That's the give and take with Blaine. He'll give you the world if you just encourage him.

And that's all Blaine needs. He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply and moaning at the smell because it really is incredible. His tongue starts moving again, this time around her clit, not folded anymore, the rougher side of his tongue against her, but still so gentle that it's not too much. "Just a little - just a little bit harder," Santana whispers, and he complies so quickly that she moans, "Oh, oh, and move a little faster, too, come on."

He moves his tongue faster, applying just a little more pressure with the smallest amount of friction from the roughness of his tongue, but it's negligible because his mouth keeps watering, the taste of her so heady and astounding that he can't stop his mouth from producing more saliva. He falls back on his instincts and starts sucking at her, still moving, just sucking a little at her, mouth wide open around her, a deep wet sucking kiss that won't stop. He doesn't know how long he keeps going, Santana's moaning sighs encouraging him, only that his dick is getting harder and harder and his tongue is getting more and more tired, but he cannot even begin to think about moving his hand to touch himself because the tension is ratcheting, and the thought of making her come, of accomplishing his task, is enough to bolster his ambition.

Santana tenses then, and says "Oh my god, I think - I - don't stop, keep, just like - " and Blaine doesn't hear the rest because there's blood rushing in his ears, and he presses even closer, his tongue moving no harder but definitely faster, hands gripping her thighs wider apart as if he could try to sink his whole face into her if he could, and he barely realizes it but he's holding his breath when suddenly he feels her hand shove his face harder into her for maybe two really long seconds, and then forcefully away from her, shuddering and hips still rocking up, twitching against the air.

Santana leans up just a little then, just her spine curving so she can pull Blaine across her body and kiss him forcefully, sucking inside of his mouth and digging her nails into his scalp and his back. Blaine shudders and he's so overwhelmed he can't even say anything, he just comes, hands falling down to support himself on Kurt's shoulder and the pillow, spilling across Santana's bra, Kurt's arm, the bed. He's still moaning as Santana releases him, and he looks at Kurt's mouth pleadingly. Kurt smiles slyly, looks at Santana, and back at Blaine. "You can kiss me," he says.

Blaine does, sinking into it and moving a little to the side so that Santana can clumsily move away from Kurt and onto her side on the bed, and Blaine's tongue is absolutely _useless_ , his mouth is barely moving, but it's Kurt who breaks the kiss. He doesn't say anything, just moves Blaine back down on the bed, toward his cock.

"Oh, I want to see this," Santana murmurs, head resting on Kurt's shoulder, boneless and pleased.

"At this point, there won't be a whole lot to see," Kurt replies, and maybe it would sound like a sheepish apology if he weren't so smug, looking at Blaine like _"that's my boyfriend, he just made you fall apart and he's not even on your team_." Blaine doesn't even look at Kurt before he sinks his mouth down, sucking as hard as he can to make up for the fact that he can't really use his tongue at this point, and Kurt thrusts up into his mouth, hands curled around his neck, until he gasps out his orgasm.

Blaine lets Kurt slip out of his mouth but stays where he is, head on Kurt's hip. "You, Blaine Warbler, are something," Santana says, but it doesn't sound like she's complaining. "You sure you're gay?"

"Are you sure you're a lesbian?" Blaine retorts. Santana looks down at him, level gaze betrayed by her smile, "Dicks ew, boobs yay."

"But it's not always that easy," Kurt murmurs against her neck. "No," she replies, running her fingers through Blaine's wrecked hair, "I guess it's not."


End file.
